Chapter 206: Diverse Training

 

  The sounds of steel clashing and the scuffle of dirt rang through the training courtyard. Stryg swung his sword in a wide arc at Gian Gale’s legs. The elder vampire danced away with little effort, evading the swing altogether. Stryg refused to let up, he dashed at the vampire and attacked with three quick thrusts. Gian raised his longsword and batted the blade away with the edge of his sword.

  Stryg vaulted in the air and sliced his blade down at Gian’s shoulder. The vampire spun around, Stryg’s blade cutting only air. He landed in a roll, kicked off the ground and turned to face Gian. The flat of the vampire’s sword smacked his shoulders, Stryg stumbled over and fell to his knees.

  “Your footwork is still lacking,” Gian noted. “Before you try and attack your enemy, make sure you don’t leave yourself open for a counter-attack.”

  Stryg dusted off his pants, picked up his sword, and stood up. “What if I just kill my opponent in one hit?”

  “That is wishful thinking. In war you must always consider the worst possible outcomes, only then can you prepare against them. Always be prepared for the worst, no matter your opponent.”

  “You’re just too fast,” Stryg muttered. If only I was a bit stronger, I could close the gap, he thought.

  Stryg recalled the extraordinary strength he had mustered when he threw the log off Freya during their mock escort exam or when he attacked the vampiress who had backstabbed Clypeus. 

  That strength was gone now and Stryg wasn’t sure how he had done it. If he could just remember that feeling of strength, perhaps he might regain it. Maybe then he might be able to beat this old man.

  “Physical strength isn’t your problem,” Gian said as if he read his mind.

  Stryg blinked, “Huh?”

  “The reason you can’t land a hit on me; it isn’t for lack of strength nor speed. It’s because of your form. You rely too much on your own physical abilities and too little on your actual technique. You always focus on the attack, never on your defense. Now that may work against some bandits, but it makes you predictable to any well-trained swordsman.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Stryg sighed.

  Gian raised his index finger, “When it comes to training, the quick way is often the path to failure. Stop trying to force yourself to become better. Instead, focus on mastering the basics of your sword form; when you’ve managed to do that, your muscles will follow through with your technique. Then you will be ready.”

  Stryg cocked his head to the side, “Ready for what?”

  Gian brandished his longsword in an unfamiliar pattern, the blade flitted through the air with blinding speed. Stryg tried to keep track of Gian’s sword, but he lost sight of the blade in the flourish of steel. That was when he saw it, a faint blue shimmer circling around Gian.

  Gian suddenly stopped still in his movements, his longsword aimed downwards, the tip hovering two inches above the dirt floor. The sword had not touched the ground, yet there was a clear cut left on the dirt.

  “What the fuck was that!?” Stryg yelled excitedly. He crouched on the floor and studied the sliced soil. “I’ve never seen a spell like that! Was that some kind of wind spell?”

  “I am not a chromatic yellow,” Gian smirked.

  “Then what spell-form was that?”

  “It wasn’t a spell.”

  “What?” Stryg frowned.

  “Not all power comes from chromatic mana or mana at all. Your sheer abnormal strength is a testament to that.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Gian sheathed his blade, “Tell me, what is chromatic mana exactly?”

  “Ethereal energy?”

  “And is the term chromatic mana and ethereal energy interchangeable?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because there are kinds of ethereal energy. Like elemental mana.”

  Gian snapped his fingers, “Precisely.”

  Stryg narrowed his eyes, “What are you saying exactly? You just used some other kind of mana?”

  “No, nothing so unprecedented,” he shook his head. “Stryg, you’re a chromatic grey, right?”

  “Among others, yes,” he nodded.

  “Besides trying to absorb mana through a drain spell, what does a grey mage mainly try to absorb?”

  “...Lifeforce?”

  Gian smiled, “Such an interesting term, lifeforce. Tell me, can you see lifeforce?”

  “No.”

  “And yet it flows through our bodies, just like mana.”

  Stryg’s lilac eyes widened, “It’s ethereal energy.”

  “One that every living creature has,” he nodded.

  “You’re saying everyone can cast lifeforce spells?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Gian scratched his beard. “For one thing, they aren’t spells. A spell is an act of transforming mana, an ethereal energy, into a physical manifestation.”

  “So it’s not a spell, but it’s still a kind of magic?”

  “In a way, though no one really calls it magic.”

  “Why not?” Stryg wrinkled his brow.

  “Magic is the act of transforming ethereal energy into a new physical substance, like transforming orange mana into fire. What I just did right now instead was give lifeforce physical properties, it is still an ethereal energy.”

  “How is that even possible?” Stryg’s pupil’s widened with interest.

  “Well, you see, unlike mana, lifeforce, if used properly, can gain physical properties. Lifeforce energy can become as tough as steel or as sharp as a blade. Some individuals can even use their lifeforce to help extend their own lifespan. It’s not eternal longevity, not even close, but it does help.”

  Stryg stared at the elder vampire with newfound curiosity, “Gian… are you?”

  The elder vampire winked, “I’m a bit older than I look.”

  Stryg frowned, “Why haven’t I ever heard of any of this lifeforce stuff before?”

  “Because manipulating one’s lifeforce is incredibly difficult. Not to mention the knowledge and techniques required to manipulate lifeforce energy are very rare. Fortunately, Gale Style Swordsmanship has learned and created several lifeforce techniques throughout the last thousand years.”

  Stryg nodded slowly, “I’m beginning to understand why people from all around the Ebon Realm try so desperately to learn swordsmanship from House Gale.”

  “Indeed,” Gian laughed. “Though they almost all get rejected.”

  “But you accepted me. Why?”

  Gian smiled half-heartedly, “You’re a special case. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

  Stryg twisted his lips, but nodded reluctantly. “So, can all Gales use these lifeforce spells?”

  “We call them techniques and no, they can’t.”

  “Why not? You refuse to teach your own tribe members?”

  “First of all, I rarely teach anyone. I usually leave the training to my family’s younger masters. Secondly, it’s not that we don’t teach them, it’s just that lifeforce manipulation is very difficult. You’d have to be a swordmaster before you can begin training in such techniques.”

  Stryg swallowed, “So Cly was able to use those techniques? He never told me.”

  Gian sighed, “Clypeus was a bit of an exception. The boy was a sword prodigy. He became a swordmaster when he was only 17. Most swordsmen train their whole lives for that title and still don’t achieve it.”

  Gian smiled bitterly, “Little Cly really was brilliant. But he didn’t use lifeforce techniques.”

  “Why not?” Stryg tilted his head. “It seems like a skill any warrior would want.”

  “Although Cly learned the foundations of the Gale Style, he diverged from the master sword-forms.” Gale pulled out his sword, “Our style focuses on using a longsword in a defensive manner. Cly always preferred a more aggressive fighting style.”

  “He fought with two short swords…” Stryg muttered.

  “Yes, he wanted to carve out his own path, his own style. I understand why you two got along so well,” Gian smiled. “Still, I suggest you stick to my teachings and try not to diverge into your own sword style. It takes dozens of years to develop a proper fighting style and that’s for a sword genius.”

  “I’m not a sword genius?” Stryg smiled wryly.

  “No,” he smirked. “You are talented, however. With enough practice and patience, you may one day just become a great swordsman.”

  “And learn lifeforce spells?”

  “Techniques. And yes. But first, you must master the basic forms. If you can do that then we can talk more about such techniques.”

  Stryg nodded. His frustration was gone, now he was just excited to learn. “Give me a few months, I’ll master the basic forms. Then you can teach me the important stuff.”

  “Try more like a few years,” Gian chuckled. “And the basic forms are important.”

  “Sure thing,” Stryg said lightly. He lifted his sword and went through the motions of the first basic form.

  Gian walked around Stryg, inspecting the goblin’s form, “Remember, swordsmanship cannot replace your mage training. Though if you manage to implement both into your arsenal, your opponents will truly fear you.”

  The training courtyard’s gate creaked open. Elzri Noir walked in, his white robes immaculate as ever.

  “Stryg, it’s time for your orange training,” Elzri called out.

  “It seems we have run out of time for today,” Gian said to Stryg. “Keep practicing on your own whenever you have a break. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, teacher,” Stryg bowed low.

  Gian walked past the drow arch-mage and nodded, “Lord Noir.”

  “Lord Gale,” Elzri nodded. He watched cautiously as Gian left the courtyard.

  And right there is another reason why it was a good decision to lie about last year’s incident, Elzri thought.

  Stryg walked over, “I didn’t know Gian was a lord.”

  “He’s not. He refused both the war and mage lord titles years ago,” Elzri said. But that doesn’t make him any less dangerous, he thought. “I simply call him lord out of respect.”

  “Huh, he’s stronger than I thought,” Stryg nodded to himself.

  Strong? Gian Gale? The most deadly individual in House Gale? The main reason no one dares threaten House Veres? “Strong” was the understatement of the year. Elzri shrugged, “Yes, Lord Gian prefers to stay in the background. He tends to stay to himself.

  Which is why it unnerved Elzri that Gian Gale had offered to train Stryg. Did the elder vampire perhaps know that something was off with about last year’s incident? Did he suspect foul play? Was he here to look more into the death of Clypeus Gale? Elzri wasn’t sure, but he needed to be careful.

  “Master Loh is the one who teaches me orange magic. So what am I really learning today?” Stryg asked.

  “I was thinking of teaching you red magic,” Elzri said, “but your potion spells are horrendous, and your ward spells seem to be progressing very well even with very little instruction from me. So I think we’ll practice yellow magic today.”

  “The wind spell-form?” Stryg asked, excited.

  “No. Let’s start with your durability spells for now. The usual routine, full-body durability scales for two minutes, then rotate and focus on hardening the scales on one area at a time.”

  “Yes, master,” he nodded with a sigh. 

  Stryg sat down on the dirt cross-legged and closed his eyes. Yellow mana flowed from his heart and coursed through his body. The burn of the body-enhancement magic itched through his muscles. A faint outline of yellow scales flared to life over his skin.

  Elzri watched over him. “Now keep it up for two minutes.”

  Stryg nodded subtly.

  The boy really was a genius mage, Elzri admitted to himself. He had taken to yellow and white magic like a fish to water. Stryg’s magical skills had continued to grow at a rapid pace these past few months. The boy had a thirst to improve that was second to none.

  It was remarkable, really. Elzri would push the boy harder and Stryg would meet each challenge with furious determination. Stryg didn’t break, nor did he complain. All Stryg asked for was to learn more and Elzri obliged.

  Recently, Stryg had been obsessed with learning how to fly after he heard of Elzri’s own flight capabilities. Unfortunately, flight magic was part of yellow’s wind spell-form, and only master mages were capable of it. Stryg was growing in power, but he was not a master. Worse, if Stryg were a master he’d still be unable to cast a flight spell.

  Elzri had recently weighed Stryg and the boy’s weight was ludicrous, measuring at about 420 pounds. A master yellow mage could barely lift themselves up, let alone carry the weight of three people. Stryg would have to at least be a high-master to achieve that feat and that was only if he stopped growing. Elzri had no idea when the boy’s growth spurt would end.

  For now, Elzri simply deemed it best not to say anything about flight magic to Stryg.

  The courtyard door slammed open. Loh stormed in, her face livid with anger.

  “Your training time with Stryg is in an hour,” Elzri said.

  “What’s with this bullshit about godparents?” Loh snarled.

  I was wondering when you’d finally hear about that, Elzri thought. 

  “Master?” Stryg opened his eyes.

  “Stryg is training, let’s not bother him,” Elzri said. A faint red glow surrounded his fingertips. He wrote a quick ward spell of silence around himself and Loh.

  “There, now what we say will stay between us,” Elzri said.

  “I’m listening,” Loh crossed her arms.

  “It’s not bullshit as you so eloquently put it, I named Stryg my godson a few weeks ago,” Elzri said.

  “What the fuck?! Are you kidding me!” Loh screamed.

  “Don’t worry, the title is honorary,” Elzri said. “You are still my heir, that will not change.”

  She laughed angrily, “You think that’s what I care about? Being your heir? I won’t let you mold Stryg into some weapon for your agenda. He doesn’t deserve the treatment you put me through as your apprentice.”

  “Stryg is molding himself. He wants to be the most powerful mage he can be and I am simply giving him the tools. As for treatment? Stryg has excelled in every test I’ve given him, there have been no complaints, even when he ended up bruised bloody. All because he understands what is at stake, power.”

  “I’m not going to let you poison his mind,” she narrowed her eyes. “Stryg isn’t your son.”

  “Of course not. I told you it’s honorary. We need Stryg to be bonded to House Noir as much as possible. I would have arranged a marriage between you both if he wasn’t a hybrid.”

  “You fucker!” Loh snapped.

  Elzri raised his hand, “But I also understand you don’t have feelings for him. I respect that, as hard as that may be for you to believe. You two seem closer to siblings than anything. That’s why I named Stryg my godson instead. Him being an honorary son of House Noir will help all of us in the future, including Stryg.”

  “Why would you do that?” she frowned.

  “You know exactly why,” he said coldly. “I’m doing what’s best for Stryg and this family.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Loh turned around and walked outside the silence wards.

  “That’s fine,” Elzri muttered to himself. “So long as they’re all safe.”